


No Surrender (except to you)

by Mainsdefeu



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mainsdefeu/pseuds/Mainsdefeu
Summary: A short piece focusing on "What if Roxy survived the explosion", set just after the Poppy events but before Eggsy's wedding."But that night she prayed, to everything, anything above that she wouldn’t be the only Kingsman left alive."





	No Surrender (except to you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys, a quick note to tell you it's my first fic (please be kind). 
> 
> English isn't my first language and even though it has been beta'd by my awesome friend Solène, please tell me if you find any mistake.
> 
> It is a Reggsy fanfic (don't like don't read).
> 
> No Copyright Infringement Intended.
> 
> Enjoy !

Royal London Hospital

She had woken up only a few hours ago, but she was reeling. The doctors went over it all: the 10 days of coma, the bruised ribs, the dislocated shoulder, the head trauma, the various cuts and scratches. She didn’t remember much, the alarm blaring, jumping out of bed, barely managing to jump out the window… She doesn’t remember landing. She doesn’t even know who attacked them, that’s what got her the most. The most advanced spy agency in the world taken down by some unknown, invisible enemy. How did they know where their headquarter was located? But if she is really honest with herself, she would know that it’s not the reason for her anger. 10 days. She couldn’t contain the pang of fear and distress invading her chest when the nurses came to talk to her. No one had come to visit. No one had been looking for a Jane Doe. No one had come looking for her. Percival, Merlin, … Eggsy.

That night she prayed, she had lost the habit a long time ago. The religious tradition that had filled each and every one of her childhood Sundays soon became restrictive and overbearing the closer she got to adulthood. But that night she prayed, to everything, anything above that she wouldn’t be the only Kingsman left alive.

It took them three days to let her out. She went directly to one of the safehouses in inner London. It held the bare minimum and an indecent number of firearms. She took a shower and inspected her remaining wounds. Most would fade with time, apart from a very long and angry-looking gash across her left shoulder blade (probably from when she went through the window). She put gauze on it, wrapping her shoulder that was still somewhat sore from the dislocation (and two bedridden weeks). She put her still wet hair into a tight ponytail. Dressed in the plain clothing that was included in the flat. She opened the laptop, entering the Kingsman servers, readying herself to assess the damage. But she was far from being ready…

Every Kingsman agency wiped from the map. The more she looked, the more deaths she found: Arthur, Percival, Merlin. She let out a sigh of relief, Eggsy’s house had also been targeted but she knew he wasn’t there (he had bragged and vented enough to her about meeting Tilde’s parents) and she couldn’t find any proof of his death. A couple of minutes in she received an alert: someone else was connected to the server. And a simple message appeared in her mailbox: “British Museum. Room 40. 0100 pm.”. Both their usernames were hidden, and the alarm bell was blaring in her head: “Trap!”. But she was a Kingsman, she had short to 2 hours to prepare for the encounter. She needed to know.

* * *

 

12:50, British Museum

She was ready and in position. She might not have been able to bring ‘actual’ weapons, but her precious umbrella passed through security quite effortlessly. She roamed around the room, admiring the various paintings, tapestry and artefacts. She began to feel better about this meeting when she noticed the theme of this room: Medieval Europe. Perhaps a fellow Kingsman managed to make it out alive too. The dimly lit room isn’t the most crowded of the museum, especially during lunch hour, and the many exhibition cases make for a great cover, but she would feel much more at ease in open ground. The guard standing in the room’s threshold keeps ‘discreetly’ glancing at her, he is of huge build but the overweight that might seem imposing for the common folks, Lancelot knows it would turn at her advantage if she were to fight him (only if need be).

She was growing impatient, shifting weight from one leg to the other, when a movement caught her eye in the reflexion of the glass case. She turned, and her breath caught. Before stood Eggsy, alive, well and in all his suited glory. He looked as shocked as her, if not more. For a couple of seconds, neither one of them spoke nor moved. Finally, he let out a sigh and whispered, barely audible: “Rox…”. So many feelings overwhelmed her in that instant, confusion and relief confronting each other in her mind. “You’re late,” she said, with an air of finality and obviousness that had him giggle nervously. His seriousness coming back, he eventually answered: “I’m sorry.” His tone sombre and heavy of unsaid things: I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry you got hurt, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, I’m sorry I didn’t look for you, I’m sorry… Both their eyes were shining from unshed tears. She didn’t know who made the first move but she found herself wrapped in his arms, her face nuzzling at the base of his neck, fingers grasping at the soft fabric on the back of his suit. He held her tight, drawing a comforting ache in her limbs, his lips brushing the crown of her hair as he whispered: “It’s okay, I got you now, you’re okay…”

She doesn’t know how long they stayed holding like this, but all too soon they had to break their embrace, not wanting to attract too much attention to themselves. They retreat to her safe house, they had much catching up to do and it wasn’t the sort of idle chat to have in public. They sat down, a much-needed cup of tea in their hands (though Kingsman safe houses left a lot to be desired in regard to decoration, the cupboards contained the best of tea). She listened attentively as Eggsy told her of Poppy, the Statesman agency, Galahad’s resurrection, Merlin’s sacrifice, sometimes cutting him off to ask for details or when she felt he was embellishing his prowess. It felt surreal for them to just fall back into their ‘old’ rhythm.

When he was done with his story, they laid back on the couch, their feet propped up on the coffee table next to their empty mugs. Her head secured on his shoulder, her breath evened as she asked him: “Have you contacted my parents yet?”. He waited a few seconds, knowing his answer would be unpleasant. “Harry did, a couple of days ago.” She knew it was protocol and she wasn’t particularly close with her parents (“it just is not how posh families work” she had explained Eggsy when they first became friends) but she felt bad for them. “I don’t know if I should let them know I’m alive.” she quietly said, “What difference would it make, in our line of work it is only a matter of time. Today or next year, they will lose me all the same.” At that, Eggsy sat up straight, Roxy instinctively followed him. He fell to his knees in front of her: “You can’t think like that Rox.” His right hand came up to her cheek, his fingers falling under her ear and his thumb brushing the cut she had below her eye, he continued more intensely: “You need to tell them, you deserve to have more time with them. Yes, our jobs are insanely dangerous, that is why we need to be happy and be with the people we care about most in this world, while we can.” Her eyes held his, and in that instant, Roxy knew he was right, she had almost died yet she had barely lived. That won’t do. So, she did the only thing she knew would make her happy. She kissed him.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement, in the blink of an eye she was on him, yet the kiss in itself was tender, tentative and chaster than what he was accustomed to. His mind flashed to Tilde and the Kingsman code of conduct which, though it didn’t forbid intra-agency dalliances, strongly advised against them. But everything faded away, because Roxy, his Roxy, was kissing him. And so, he yielded, and kissed her back.

The End.


End file.
